


Not Safe

by Reaping



Series: Artsy April [12]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Gen, Open Ending, Pre-Slash, Stiles Stilinski & Malia Tate Friendship, werefox!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 09:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6560203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reaping/pseuds/Reaping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>April 13th Prompt: Family</p><p>His feet have barely touched down before he’s twisting and leaping again, tackling the man who’d been coming up behind him, pinning him to the floor and snarling in his face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Safe

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation from [Unexpected Results](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6525181). You don't have to read that for this to make sense, but it probably helps.
> 
> Regularly Scheduled Notes:  
> I'm doing a lovely challenge with some friends called Artsy April. They'll be doing art, but since I cannot draw or paint or sculpt or do basically anything art-related to save my life, I'm doing a daily fic. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> If I missed tags let me know. Concrit is always welcome and appreciated.

The pull is like an itch under his skin, a slow burn that sets his teeth on edge. His hands clench into fists, release, clench again. He can taste his own agitation on the air, bitter like gunpowder. His feet propel him silently back and forth across the floor, body thrumming with excess energy. His mind is a hive, angry bees swarming and buzzing, derailing his thoughts as they try to form. His ears pick up the second heartbeat as soon as it moves into his den, he can smell wariness and caution, it does nothing to soothe the anger sparking through him at having his home invaded. Claws drop from his fingertips, fangs glisten as they slide free of his gums, his vision changing and amplifying as his eyes shift. Muscles bunch and ripple as he moves forward silently, body crouched low and sliding slowly across the floor, ears tracking the heartbeat through the house. A second heartbeat joins the first and he’s up and running, vaulting the railing to the stairs and landing nearly silently on the ground floor. His feet have barely touched down before he’s twisting and leaping again, tackling the man who’d been coming up behind him, pinning him to the floor and snarling in his face. He’s assaulted by the smells, _predator, danger, wolf_ , is rearing his head back, mouth opening wide around his fangs, intent clear, when a bucket of water is dropped on him. It’s shockingly cold, snaps him back to himself suddenly, fangs and claws gone. He scrambles backwards on his ass, wrapping his arms around his knees, now drawn tight to his chest, as he shudders, breath coming in great heaves as his body flushes the adrenaline from his system.

“I’m sorry…” it’s a whisper, barely loud enough for the wolf to hear it. He can parse the scents and sounds better now, his mind blissfully clear for the moment. The first heartbeat had been his father, he recognizes it now. He can feel water sliding down his face, is pretty sure there are tears mixing in with what was just dumped on his head. _He’d almost_ …he can’t think it through. Won’t be able to do anything if he finishes the thought. “I’m so sorry.”

“Stiles, it’s alright.” A warm hand lands on his shoulder, gently squeezing, trying to force him to turn and face them. Instead, he pulls away, hunching further in on himself. “Son.” He can hear the anguish in his father’s voice, the pain at being refused, but he can’t accept comfort from him now.

“Dad…I almost – if Derek hadn’t been here,” his eyes flicker to the other man, catching his stare before darting away again. He almost can’t swallow against the tightness in his throat.

“You didn’t though, and you won’t. I told you we’d figure it out, and we will. I’m not going anywhere.”

“WELL I AM!” It’s unexpected, the wash of anger. He’s on his feet again, can see Derek tensing to move against him if he needs to, and it’s enough to get him to take a deep breath and step back a pace. “I am. This isn’t safe for you, for anyone. I can’t stay. I’m going to hurt you if I do.”

“Stiles, you’re my son, I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should be,” the laugh is low and mirthless. He lets his claws slide free, forces his eyes to change, can see the orangey-yellow reflection in his father’s eyes, hear the skip of the man’s heart as it picks up speed. It’s enough. He drops it all again and hangs his head. “You don’t want to be, but you are, and you should be. I’m not safe to be around. I…I did research when I knew. Foxes aren’t like wolves or coyotes. They don’t have packs. I couldn’t find anything about werefoxes, but…” he trails off, his own heart thunderous, tears blurring his vision. He sees Derek move forward, hand extended, and he backs up another step, shaking his head. “You don’t smell like pack.” Derek’s eyes widen, his steps faltering. “And you don’t smell like family.” He locks eyes with his father. “This place smells like mine, but that’s it. I almost lost myself when you came home.” His tone has gone pleading, begging them to understand. “ _I’m not safe_.” He spins on his heel and is up the stairs before anyone can speak. There’s a bag sitting on his bed and he manages to slow himself long enough to scoop it up and grab the shoes from the floor before he’s flinging himself out of the window. He can hear Derek telling his father what’s happening, can hear him asking the sheriff to stay there and let the pack help Stiles. Except he’s pretty sure there’s no help. As far as he knows, he’s the first of his kind, and if he’s anything like a real fox, there’s a damned good reason for why werefoxes didn’t exist before now. He’s out of earshot long before Derek has even left his house, as good of a headstart as he can hope for. His feet carry him quickly to the highway leading out of town, and he doesn’t even consider hitchhiking. He stops briefly to stow the shoes in the bag before slipping into the trees edging the road and continuing away. He’s gone at least a mile before he hears a steady heartbeat ahead of him. Whoever it is isn’t moving, the heartbeat calm and steady and stationary. He catches the scent as he moves closer, sighs and grits his jaw.

“Malia. I’m not going back. I thought if anyone understood, it would be you.”

“I do. I’m not here to stop you; I just wanted to bring you this.” She’s holding a slim box out to him and he takes it warily. He glances at her in puzzlement when he opens it.

“You’re giving me a phone?”

“I knew you wouldn’t take yours, you’re smart enough to know it could be tracked. It’s a disposable, but I put everyone’s numbers in…just in case. Also I need you to give me your shirt.”

“What? Why?” He doesn’t miss the eyeroll, or the way she’s holding her hand out like it’s a given he’s going to listen to her without question. When he doesn’t move to obey she sighs and flexes her fingers in a give-it-here gesture. “Again, why?”

“Because you left your phone, but you also left your scent. Do you want them to find you as soon as you stop long enough to rest? I can track your scent in more directions, make it harder for them to be sure which way you went.”

“Oh, right.” Her patience is wearing thin with him, he can see it. He strips off his shirt efficiently, passing it over and pulling another from his bag. “Why are you helping me?”

“You know why.” Her eyes go distant, the memories of what kept her a coyote for so long dancing just behind them. “I don’t want you to have to live with that. You and Scott helped me, and now I’m helping you.”

“Thank you.” Suddenly his arms are filled, Malia wrapping him in a tight hug, and he aches with how much he wishes he’d had a chance for this with his father before he left. She’s pulling back quickly though, detecting the tensing of his shoulders as the fox inside bristling at another predator so close.

“Be safe Stiles.” It’s a whisper against his ear as she moves away, and tears threaten again at the concern in her words.

“I will.” They both ignore the crack in his voice when he speaks. She nods at him and is gone through the trees, doubling back on his trail for now. He glances once more behind him, Beacon Hills already nearly lost to the distance, before he steps back into the forest, disappearing into the shadows.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](http://jennthereaper.tumblr.com) if you'd like!


End file.
